


Just Peachy

by lastSaskatchewanPirate



Series: Metaphorical Coffee [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Fluffy like whoa, M/M, flirting via ice cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 22:09:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11495736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastSaskatchewanPirate/pseuds/lastSaskatchewanPirate
Summary: Days like this don't come around often.  Rodimus is determined to make the most of it.





	Just Peachy

He was staring again.

Rodimus was intensely aware that he was being stared at, and was determined not to let the opportunity go to waste. It wasn’t every day, after all, that his schedule and Megatron’s coincided to allow them to have an entire afternoon together. It wasn’t every day that the weather was this perfect – sunny and warm, with a light wind coming off the water and carrying with it the diluted briny scent of deep ocean. It wasn’t every day that there was a farmer’s market in the park; and it certainly wasn’t every day – not even every farmer’s market day – that the local ice cream dude was there, AND Roddy found him before he sold out, which usually happened within the first twenty minutes of the guy setting up his big canvas umbrella.

Major planetary conjunctions occurred more frequently than days like this, and Rodimus was determined not to waste a single moment.

Not to mention a single drop of ice cream.

He had considered getting a popsicle – Leona’s made the best freakin’ popsicles anywhere, and their blueberry vanilla nettle was only slightly less spectacular than the pineapple basil, which was saying a lot given, you know, _nettles in his popsicle_ – but dismissed that as too obvious; and besides, they had his favorite today. Peach melba, made with fresh peaches. Peaches that tasted like actual peaches, not vaguely fruity sugar or frozen lumps of disappointment. Peaches that were not frozen so solid they’d break your teeth, but were still soft and juicy, and the ice cream was just the right consistency – not soft serve, but not a frozen brick, either – and the raspberry swirl was made with real local raspberries and was just the right level of tart to balance the sweet peaches … 

Rodimus moaned lewdly and unashamedly around a mouthful of perfect peach melba ice cream.

Beside him, Megatron swallowed hard enough that his throat clicked audibly.

Rodimus hid his smirk behind the ice cream cone, and then turned the cone to quickly nab a minuscule escaping dribble with a careful flick of his tongue. Excellent. Things were proceeding as he had foreseen.

Across the park, he saw the tall, lanky figure of Cyclonus, who appeared to be carrying a string bag stuffed with produce. Beside him, Tailgate was gesturing excitedly with an ice cream cone of his own – strawberry, going by the color – and coming dangerously close to anointing everyone within arms reach. Rodimus considered waving to the pair, but dismissed the idea as potentially risky for the vendors and patrons in their vicinity. Besides, he was busy, here.

Another drip was threatening to escape. Rodimus chased it down, along with its companion, which had actually made it onto his index finger. Shocking, I tell you. He cleaned the finger thoroughly, and then made sure to clean up the ice cream’s perimeter with long, lavish sweeps of his tongue.

A sneaking sideways glance at Megatron showed the other man quickly averting his gaze. His ears were awfully pink, Rodimus noted, even for a warm day like this.

Thinking of pink ears interrupted his carefully choreographed ice cream consumption with the realization that his own ears and cheeks were starting to feel warm, and not in the good way. Dammit. Sunburn sucked ass.

Luckily, the park was more than adequately endowed with trees of the broad, leafy, shade-bestowing variety, and Rodimus reached over to snag Megatron’s arm and tug him gently in the direction of the closest one. “Hey, Megs, I’m getting crispy. C’mon, there’s a tree.”

Megatron allowed himself to be tugged along – luckily for Rodimus, who stood no chance whatsoever of moving the bastard if said bastard didn’t want to be moved – and seated himself neatly cross-legged on the ground beside Roddy’s artless sprawl.

They sat in silence for a moment while Rodimus applied himself to his ice cream cone. Cute seduction ploy aside, it was freakin’ fantastic ice cream and he genuinely didn’t want to waste any.

Megatron eyed the enthusiastic slurping for a moment. “I assume you’re enjoying that.”

Rodimus offered him a brilliant grin and the cone. “Dude, it’s so good, you gotta try some.”

Megatron leaned a little closer in order to take him up on the offer. Rodimus promptly took advantage of the opportunity to dab the cone squarely against the tip of Megatron’s nose, depositing a perfectly circular drop of peach melba ice cream on it.

Megatron’s dumbfounded expression was seriously the funniest thing Rodimus had ever seen. 

Rodimus started to giggle, at which point Megatron tried to look offended and failed utterly – due only in part to the ice cream on his nose – thereby sending Rodimus into a wheezing fit that threatened to dump his ice cream on the ground.

“Sorry,” Rodimus gasped. He was laughing so hard that tears were glittering in his eyelashes. “Sorry, I just … you just … oh my god, c’mere.” He gulped down another spate of giggles in order to lean up and kiss the ice cream off Megatron’s nose. “I’m sorry, that … I just …”

A slow, private smile curled one side of Megatron’s mouth, and he reached over to wrap his hand around Roddy’s on the ice cream cone. “You still didn’t let me try it,” he observed, and his voice was a low, intimate rumble.

Rodimus shivered. It had nothing at all to do with ice cream.

Megatron drew Rodimus’s hand, and the ice cream cone, toward himself, but his eyes didn’t leave Roddy’s, and that wicked little smile was still curving his mouth; and Rodimus leaned in, lips parting involuntarily; and Megatron swiftly snagged the ice cream cone and swiped it right across those parted lips and onto Rodimus’s cheek as well.

It was Rodimus’s turn to blink, dumbfounded.

He didn’t spend too much time blinking, though, because Megatron slid his other hand – the one not occupied with Roddy’s fingers and the now precariously melted ice cream – around the back of Rodimus’s neck and pulled him into a deep, claiming kiss that quite effectively dealt with all the ice cream on Rodimus’s mouth. A string of soft, sucking little kisses took care of the ice cream on his cheek as well.

Rodimus grinned and pressed himself closer to the big warm body in front of him. “Well?” His voice was a little breathless, but that was only to be expected with Megatron’s mouth on his fingers, cleaning up the ice cream that had started melting over the edge of the cone. “What do you think?”

“Not bad.” Megatron kissed him again, his mouth sweet as fresh peaches. “Might need to taste it again to be sure, though.”

Rodimus was perfectly happy to let him.

**Author's Note:**

> Leona's is an actual local ice cream company, though they are not the ones who make blueberry vanilla nettle popsicles (which, despite what you might think, are actually delicious).


End file.
